One thousand fathoms down, our halogens
strike tube worms blooming in the methane seeps
and spiral plumes of sulfides. We descend
into the fizz escaping from the deep
so vast and vacant that our sonar pings
unanswered, and sinking still, the only light
is ghostly cobalt, specks phosphorescing
past the bathyscaphe’s thick glass. Sealed tight,
the orb dives down, we hope impervious
to freezing brine, or stranger elements.
These glowing creatures, pale, gelatinous,
and the invertebrates our minds invent,
inspect us as we sink into our fears
beneath a thousand deadly atmospheres.